Marshall Ramsey

You’re snoozing on a flight. The plane’s autopilot is taking you safely to your destination.

A sudden jolt wakes you up! The fasten-seat belt light dings as you look out the window. Storm clouds angrily boil as turbulence tosses the plane around like a ping pong ball in a tornado. A particularly hard jolt makes the plane groan — the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling! Screams mixed in with prayers ricochet throughout the cabin. Fear grips you — you wish you could self-medicate with the little bottles of booze the flight attendant was handing out. The plane begins to yaw to the right and starts to nose down. You look up and see the cabin door open — both pilots are incapacitated. Fear continues to keep you anchored in your seat.

The autopilot, which had not been programmed for this situation, is no longer doing it’s job. And while fear seductively tells you to just do nothing, you look around and see people you love. You take a deep breath, unbuckle your seatbelt and head to the cockpit. You find courage when you turn your attention outward, not inward.

Love pushes you forward.

Once in the cockpit, you move the pilot to the jump set and then sit behind the controls. There are so many buttons! You have no idea how to land a plane! You put on the radio and call for help, “Mayday! Mayday”

A calm, comforting voice comes into your ear. The flight controller, a pilot who knows how help you land this plane, starts to guide you through the switches and procedures. You get control of the plane and get it through the storm and then below 10,000 feet. The controller then helps you line up on the runway and safely bring your craft to Earth. You have not only changed your own destiny, but you have also made a difference in the lives of your fellow passengers — thanks to the friendly voice who guided you through the storm.

Yeah, I’m talking about mental health. We’ve all been on a bumpy flight lately and our autopilots aren’t working as well as they should. Don’t be afraid to seek out a friendly voice to help guide you through any storms you’re going through. Your fellow passengers will be glad you did.

I have to ask myself, ”why do I keep drawing the coloring sheets?” The pandemic, at least the shutdown part of it, is long over. Kids aren’t sitting at home needing something to do. I don’t get a ton of likes on them, so I am not getting a dopamine rush from them. But I took a few days off from drawing them a couple of months ago, and, to my surprise, missed the characters. Banjo, Pip, Sam and Mr. ML have become real to me. Spending 20 minutes a day (how long I take to draw them), is both therapeutic and a creative warmup for my day. I’ve done 1,000 of them since March of 2020 — and never once have the characters said a word.

Still, why do I keep at it?

I don’t want them to die.

I also feel like there is a children’s book in them. I have a basic outline for a story and in my spare time, I am going to do an origin story. All the characters had meaning to me in real life (well, except Mr. ML — he just hung around our old house). Banjo was our rescue Border Terrier. Pip was born on the day he died and is our current Border Terrier (she is 10 1/2 now). Sam was our one and only cat — and he weighed 26 lbs. pounds. Banjo is wise. Pip sees the world with joy and adventure. Sam is mischievous and a bit of a coward and Mr. ML has no idea he could eat the other three at any moment. He is an innocent soul.

It has been fun putting something out into the world for free. Eventually, I will make them pay the rent in some way — I need to eat, too. But it has been a wonderful ministry the past three years. And it has been good therapy for me